


We Still Have the Radio - II.

by luckjustkissedyouhello



Series: could've been worse (than you would ever know) [2]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Car Accidents, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hospitals, Nightmares, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckjustkissedyouhello/pseuds/luckjustkissedyouhello
Summary: Sammy wakes, disoriented in a dim hospital room, unsure what woke him, his heart is pounding in his chest. A moment passes as his eyes get used to the not-quite darkness of the room. He looks over at Ben in his bed, thinking that someone must have spoken in the hall and woken him or some other hospital sound, but the moment his eyes land on Ben’s sleeping form, Sammy realizes he’s wrong. Ben woke him.
Relationships: Ben Arnold & Sammy Stevens
Series: could've been worse (than you would ever know) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953190
Comments: 13
Kudos: 23
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	We Still Have the Radio - II.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, detailed content warnings are in the end note.

Sammy wakes, disoriented in a dim hospital room, unsure what woke him, his heart is pounding in his chest. A moment passes as his eyes get used to the not-quite darkness of the room. He looks over at Ben in his bed, thinking that someone must have spoken in the hall and woken him or some other hospital sound, but the moment his eyes land on Ben’s sleeping form, Sammy realizes he’s wrong. Ben woke him.

Ben is tossing around on the bed, breathing hard. But he’s not waking up. Sammy sits up carefully, even with the sling it’s so damn hard not to move his left arm and disturb his broken collar bone, but he’s getting used to it. Ben makes a tiny, heartbreaking distressed sound, whimpers Sammy’s name in his sleep (Sammy suspects this is what woke him), and Sammy very nearly says ‘fuck it’ and pulls out the IV that’s in the back of his right hand in his rush to get to Ben, rather than fight with the IV pole and bring it with him. He only just stops himself from using his teeth to pull it out because he thinks it might upset Ben if he does.

Sammy can’t get to Ben as quickly as he’d like. He has to stop and wait out a dizzy spell that hits him when he stands up, thanks to the concussion he received hitting his head against the car window. Falling over would not help anything right now, Sammy has to tell himself, but Ben whimpering so close but so far at the same time is almost breaking Sammy’s heart, making him hate himself for being so weak and needing a moment for his equilibrium to settle. 

The doctors said he was lucky he hadn’t been hurt worse, considering the car flew off a bridge and into a fucking lake while he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. Hell, Ben had been lucky too, they both were. But at the moment, struggling to cross the five feet of space between their hospital beds, dragging an IV pole and trying so hard not to vomit up his disgusting hospital dinner while his best friend cries in his sleep...Sammy doesn’t feel all that lucky. He just feels tired and old, terrified by what could’ve happened. And now Ben needs him and he’s taking a fucking year to get across the room because he can’t fight a slight head injury like a man and get over the way the floor seems to be rolling under his feet. 

Finally, _finally_ , Sammy makes it to Ben’s beside. Ben’s face is wet with tears, sweat. The chest of Ben's hospital gown is sticking to him from the sweat. God, how long was he struggling in his sleep while Sammy slept peacefully, ignoring Ben’s distress? Sammy doesn’t know, hates himself just a little bit more. 

“Sammy, _please_ , breathe,” Ben begs in his sleep, distress written all over his face, soaked into his voice. 

Sammy has to bite the inside of his lip to keep from losing it as he reaches out and gives Ben’s left shoulder a gentle shake. “Ben, Ben, wake up,” he says, trying to go for gently firm so he doesn’t scare Ben. He really doesn’t think he can stand much more of Ben’s suffering.

“Oh, _god_. No, please! Sammy!” Ben continues on like Sammy’s not shaking his shoulder, calling his name. “Don’t do this to me. Please.” 

When they first became roommates, Sammy was honestly shocked by how much Ben talked in his sleep. Sammy’s never known anyone to speak full sentences while completely asleep before. He thought that was just a bad storytelling trope. But no, Ben Arnold, of course, does exactly that. Normally the things he says are hysterical like ‘I’m sorry I forgot to put the parrot ball in the rum bottle’ (an actual Ben Arnold quote - Sammy wrote that one down) or some other kind of nonsense. Now, though...now this is just adding an extra layer of just plain fucking _awful_ to this all.

Sammy shakes Ben harder. “Ben! It’s me, Sammy. I’m okay. You’re okay. Just wake up, buddy, _please_ , Ben!” Sammy’s afraid this won’t work, and he’s not sure what to do next, if he can’t pull the other man out of whatever horrors his mind is showing him (Sammy has a guess, his own nightmares in the two nights since their accident are mostly the same - Ben drowning in a car while Sammy is pulled away by some unseen force, unable to hold onto Ben and pull him to safety too). 

Just as he’s about to let go of Ben’s shoulder and try and call for a nurse, Ben takes a huge gulp of air in, and sits up, screaming wordlessly. His head nearly collides with Sammy’s, but Sammy manages to throw himself back out of the way just in time. Of course, his stupid head and equilibrium is all screwed up, and moving that quickly is a terrible fucking idea.

He’s lucky - Ben reacts quickly, reaching out and grabbing Sammy’s flailing right arm, keeping Sammy on his feet. For a long moment, Ben just stares at him with wide, haunted eyes, breathing hard. 

“It was just a dream, man. You’re okay,” Sammy tells him, his heart is in his throat seeing Ben like this and his eyes may be a bit wet. 

Ben blinks at him like he doesn’t understand what Sammy's saying. And then he’s launching himself at Sammy, practically climbing over the railing of the bed to wrap his arms around Sammy. Sammy grits his teeth and doesn’t make a sound when Ben's head bounces off his chest, not right off his broken collarbone but close enough to steal Sammy's breath. Not that he cares. All he really cares about is the man in front of him, sobbing into his neck. 

Sammy holds Ben back as best he can with only one working arm. The pressure on his chest, Ben's weight trapping his injured arm against his chest hurts, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in his heart at Ben’s distress. So Sammy says nothing about it. He just holds Ben back just as tightly, lets Ben cry. He keeps repeating “We’re okay, we're safe,” over and over to him because he’s pretty sure he knows what Ben’s nightmare was about. And Ben deserves to know that he’s safe too, so Sammy says 'we' and not 'I'.

He’s not sure how long it goes on. He’s on pain meds and sporting a concussion. Time is rather hard to follow when he’s not standing there, comforting his best friend in a dark hospital room... All he knows is the neck of his hospital gown is soaked by the time Ben pulls away. Sammy has a distracted moment of gratitude towards the docs that let Lily and Emily bring them up pajama pants or Sammy's ass would be flapping in the breeze here, but that thought doesn’t help Ben right now, so Sammy shoves the thought to the side. 

Ben wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his hospital gown. Sammy winces at the idea of Ben blowing his nose on it next, and looks around for the box of tissues he knows is in the room. Thankfully they’re not far, resting on the rolling bed tray near Ben’s bed, though he only realizes as he tries to get them that he is still clinging to Ben’s gown with his good hand, and he’s very reluctant to let go. But hygiene is saved - Sammy just manages to reach the box.

Ben takes the offered tissues and blows his nose. He looks down at the floor as he says: “I’m sorry Sammy. I didn’t mean to wake you up. You’re healing and you need your rest.”

Sammy barely stops himself from letting out a very pointed ‘mmhmm’ at the idea that he's the only one who is hurt and needs their rest. Ben had surgery on his arm for fuck’s sake! But he doesn’t let it out - Ben doesn’t need that kinda sarcasm right now. Instead, he says: “Ben I’ve been screaming you awake from my nightmares for over a year now. You never let me apologize. I’m not gonna hear it from you. There’s nothing to be sorry for. And you need rest as much as I do...Just…you know…tell me, are you okay?” Sammy stutters out his concern in the end, afraid that Ben will be angry at him pushing. But he needs to know Ben’s alright. 

Ben nods. But he doesn’t look okay. He still won’t look Sammy in the eyes. He’s curled in on himself where he kneels on the bed, shoulders almost up to his ears. 

Sammy's heart breaks a bit more. Then he’s leaning forward, scrambling at the catch to drop the bed rail down but he’s only got one hand and—

“What’re you doing?” Ben asks, but reaches out and helps Sammy get the railing down even as he asks. 

“Move over,” Sammy tells him, maneuvering his IV pole as close to the bed as possible. 

“Sammy! What?” Ben sputters, confused. 

“I’m getting in this bed with you. Move over,” Sammy answers firmly. There’s no room for argument here. 

Ben shakes his head but uses his good hand to steady Sammy as he raises his knee and to climb onto the bed. Damn his balance is really fucked. “Jack-in-the-Box Jesus,” Ben mutters. 

Sammy stops trying to climb up and looks at Ben. Waits until Ben looks up at him and makes eye contact. That haunted, scared look in Ben's eyes makes Sammy's heart twist violently in his chest, his stomach lurch. Sammy takes a steadying breath and says: “I think you need to be held—'' Ben opens his mouth to argue, but Sammy pushes on talking over him - Ben would do the same for him. “- And I would feel a lot better if I was holding you.”

Ben frowns. Sammy knows the look on his face. He wants this but doesn’t think he deserves it. Jack in the Box Jesus knows Sammy is intimately acquainted with that feeling. So Sammy presses on: “Look. You don’t have to. But I know it helps me. You do it all the time after my nightmares. You make one helluva big spoon Ben Arnold, but you can let me be the big spoon too, ya know?” The fact that they do indeed do this often after Sammy wakes up screaming from a Void nightmare, Ben climbing in the bed and wrapping his arms around Sammy when Sammys so exhausted and terrified by the nightmares he can hardly move, is how Sammy knows this isn’t about Ben not being comfortable with the idea. (though a tiny part of him that will always panic, tells him that Ben doesn’t want to because Sammy is gay, Sammy knows in his heart that’s not the case at fucking all). This is about Ben thinking he doesn’t deserve comfort. 

Ben looks down at the thin hospital blanket over his legs. “You’re hurt, Sammy,” he argues quietly. 

Sammy can’t help his frustrated sigh at that. “Ben. So are you. But these nice hospital people have given us both a beautiful fucking thing called morphine and I don’t know about you, but I can hardly feel my face. We’ll be careful. Try another excuse.”

Ben frowns up at him. His eyes are still looking just as haunted as when he woke. Sammy has to force himself not to look away. Finally, fucking finally, Ben nods. 

It takes a bit of maneuvering, a bit more cursing than probably necessary, but they finally settle into a position that doesn’t hurt either of them. Sammy on his back, Ben along his right side, head pillowed low on Sammy’s chest, so as to not put weight on Sammy’s collarbone. Sammy has his right arm curled up around Ben, rubbing his back, Ben has his casted right arm pillowed on Sammy’s stomach. Sammy feels better and more comfortable than he has since the accident. He feels good having Ben in his arms - he knows Ben is safe, solid and real in his arms.

Everything is quiet for a few minutes. Sammy tries to even out his breathing, to fall asleep, or at least let his breathing lull Ben to sleep. But then Ben’s voice in the darkness says: “This is all my fault,” in a quiet, broken voice. 

Sammy shakes his head. Then he realizes Ben can’t see that and answers: “It’s not your fault. You had a nightmare. There’s no shame in that. You tell me that all the time.” In the beginning, when they were first roommates, right after Sammy tried to throw himself into The Void and failed, Sammy was so ashamed that his nightmares were bad enough to wake Ben a room away from his that he’d try desperately to just not sleep. He felt weak and pathetic, not being able to control what his own stupid brain was throwing at him, and even more pathetic when Ben had to comfort him after. Ben wouldn’t stand for it, wouldn’t let Sammy beat himself up for what Ben referred to as ‘a very normal response to some very serious trauma’. Sammy vows to not let Ben do that to himself either. 

Ben makes a frustrated sound, one-tenth of a normal ‘Bensplosion’. “No! Sammy! I mean. This,” he waves his casted arm around to indicate them, the hospital room. “This is all my fault! I was driving!”

Oh. _damn it_. Sammy sighs. “Ben,” he says pointedly. Yeah, it’s his Dad Voice but it’s Ben suffering and beating himself up, of course Sammy’s gonna Dad Voice him. “Look at me.” Ben doesn’t move. _God damn it_ , how did Sammy not see this coming? The first time Ben woke after surgery, the first time Sammy saw him after they were whisked in separate directions to get checked out by the doctors he was apologizing to Sammy from across the room. Ben won’t look at him. Sammy plays his trump card: “Ben, _please_.”

That works. Ben looks up at him, and _fuck_ he’s crying again. Or never stopped. Sammy’s not sure which would be worse.

“First of all, if I was driving, would you blame me?” Sammy asks, struggling to keep the frustration out of his voice. The knowledge that he’d be a thousand times worse than Ben is right now if he had been the driver keeps Sammy from letting that frustration get the best of him. That, and knowing that frustration is the last thing Ben needs from him right now.

Ben opens his mouth, and Sammy knows an ‘I’m about to argue with you’ Ben face better than anyone, and he’s not having it. “Don’t lie to me.” Ben closes his mouth, and Sammy goes on. “Second of all, _god damn it_ Ben, don’t you get that I’m only alive right now because of you!” 

Ben makes a face at that, more confusion than arguing to argue. “Sammy, what are you talking about?”

Sammy gives him an incredulous look. “Ben. You have to realize how fucked up my head was? I didn’t know what the hell was going on! My memories a bit fuzzy, but I know you knocked the window out—“

“—your head cracked it open, I just knocked the rest of the glass out—“ 

“Okay, _fine_. I cracked it. With my goddamn skull. But you knocked the glass out using your right hand, and your arm was broken in, like, three places --Emily told me while you were in surgery. You dragged me out of the car and to the surface with that hand. _And then_ you held onto me with your good hand and fucking swam with your broken arm doing most of the work!” Sammy’s getting worked up, he realizes a bit belatedly. But he wants Ben to see it as he sees it, _needs_ Ben to see it that way. 

“You...helped…” Ben says thinly like he knows it’s neither the point nor really at all close to the truth.

Sammy laughs, it’s not a great sound, but not bitter, at least, at how useless he was after the accident. He doesn’t want to be a hypocrite that blames himself while not letting Ben blame himself. “Ben, all I could do really was hold my own head above water. You saved my life, Ben Arnold. Please, _please_ , accept that what happened what’s just a terrible accident caused by no one, and _you_ saved me.” 

Ben looks away for a moment, then back at Sammy, small ghost of a smile on his face. He doesn’t look so guilty. It’s not perfect, but Sammy will take it. “Does that make you my damsel in distress, Sammy?” Ben asks.

It’s a shadow of the Ben he knows. But considering that not even forty-eight hours have passed since their impromptu swim, and they’re both in the hospital recovering, Sammy is overjoyed by the attempt. “I knew there was a reason I grew my hair out,” he jokes back, and then tightens his arm around Ben. “Now, lay back down. We both need sleep, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ben agrees, smiling at Sammy. He settles back down, his breath evening out.

Sammy has to admit, it is much better this way than in a bed across the room. Having Ben closer is a comfort. He hopes his closeness is a comfort to Ben too.

As if reading his mind, Ben says, sleepily: “Love you, man.”

Sammy curls up a bit, rolling his shoulders so he can press his lips to the top of Ben’s hair. Oh, Jack-in-the-Box Jesus, that is not a way he should move for a while, he realizes too late, it puts too much pressure on his collarbone, but it’s worth it, Ben lets out a happy, content little sigh. “Love you too, Ben.” He says as he settles back down. 

They get a lecture in the morning about Sammy getting in Ben’s bed, but Ben charms the nurse into not being too upset with them, explaining his nightmare and Sammy’s efforts to comfort him. The nurse doesn’t say a word when they do it again the next night.

**Author's Note:**

> Ben has a nightmare related to their car accident (their car went off a bridge and into the lake). Specifically, he dreams that Sammy dies as he watches.


End file.
